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Millicent Bulstrode (reinventingmils) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"It's confusing, is what it is," Mils muttered into her glass, still smarting at the other day's embarrassment of fumbling her way through getting money from a cashpoint. "He didn't let me know I'd be paying for my own lunch, for one." She crunched a spear of asparagus with more force than necessary. "Who invites someone to a business lunch, and then ever so caaasually mentions that he's a bit short, and he hopes I won't think him crude if he lets me split this time." Another sip of her wine, and Mils grimaced, eyes rolling slightly in appeal. "Let, Dora. Can you even?"

She tucked her legs a little tighter to her side, leaning more into the settee's arm. "It's not even the fact that he's foreign, so much that he's just so completely..." Mils waved her fingers in thought. "Slippery? No, that's not the word I want." She handed Mebby her plate as the elf popped in to check on them. "He has the strangest aura."